How he saved me.

3- Make yourself at home

Mason was obviously not a shy or quiet person like I thought he was when I first saw him.  Because I had no friends at school, I didn't know what his reputation was so I was going off of what I had assumed.  I assumed he was the bad boy of the school and I was wondering if I was right. 

You would've thought I told him to make himself at home when he first got here; which was the opposite of what had happened.  I was extremely nervous to have him at my house.  What if he actually ended up acting like the guy who attacked me?  Everything he had done had proved otherwise but you never know, it could all be an act to lure me in.  Of course that was just the paranoid side of me coming through. 

"You have a ton of food here.  I should come more often," he says walking out of my kitchen holding a bag of potato chips.  I rolled my eyes, which I had found that I did a lot around him.  If I end up becoming friends with him I'll be lucky if they don't freeze that way.

"Yeah just make yourself at home, Mason!" I say following towards the sofa.  I had just been standing there leaning on my crutches awkwardly waiting for him to leave the kitchen.

"No problem, sweetheart.  Come over here and sit down.  I don't bite... Much," he says smirking and again, I roll my eyes.

"You roll your eyes a lot did you know that?" He asks and I shrug as I sit down.

He turns on the television and begins flipping through channels until he stops on a random channel with sports on it.  Of course.

"So how did you hurt yourself?  Let me guess, you fell down the stairs because you are secretly a complete klutz?"

"Haha, you're totally right!" I exclaim sarcastically and he sits there watching me with an amused look on his face.

"Umm, no actually.  It's a long story that isn't worth hearing."

"I've got a lot of time.  I want to hear it."

I take a deep breath and I feel uneasy because a boy I barely know is in my house and is staring at me as if my presence on earth actually matters.  Which I'm sure it doesn't.  He's just trying to be nice to the lonely freak at Beverly Hills High.

"I started walking at nine months old, and by the time I was ten months old I was running and rolling around the house.  When I turned one my mom and dad signed me up for 'Mommy and Me' gymnastics classes.

By eighteen months old I could walk across the beam with no problems.  They put me in more advanced classes when I was two and by the time I was three I was on the pre-team.

When I was four years old I could finally be a level one because that's the age you have to be to compete.  I was so excited when I competed for the first time.  My hair was done into this complicated braided bun with braids going into it and it was held up by a ton of hairspray and my coach had sprayed glitter onto it.  I loved being in the meet leo and doing time warm up in front of the audience.  I loved the nervousness you felt when you were waiting in front of the beam or at the edge of the floor.  It was what made competing the most fun for me.  I won first place on three events and all around.  I've competed ever since then.

The awards didn't matter to me at all.  Yes, it was amazing to be called up onto the podium for first place and to get the trophies and all, but it wasn't what I cared about the most.  I cared about being on the team with girls you would spend your entire childhood with. 

The countless team sleepovers and outings with my teammates in my level made it even better.  The out of town competitions and sleepovers in your friends hotel room were the best.  Walking down for breakfast with about twenty other girls from your gym is pretty cool because you watch the other peoples expressions like, what are these girls doing here?